


140 - Music Festival with Van, Larry & Benji

by storiesaboutvan



Category: Catfish and the Bottlemen (Band)
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Reader-Insert
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-13
Updated: 2019-01-13
Packaged: 2019-10-09 10:38:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,262
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17405372
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/storiesaboutvan/pseuds/storiesaboutvan
Summary: Filling the prompt “GOING TO A MUSIC FESTIVAL WITH VAN AND BEING IN THE CROWD AND ALL THAT JAZZ. IM HAVING MAJOR SWEATY AND HOT VAN VIBES AND DYING.”





	140 - Music Festival with Van, Larry & Benji

The road trip was short, and you were grateful for that. Van slept almost the entire time, his head in your lap in the back seat. "Not going to get a band dude to fall in love with you with that muppet following you around," Larry whispered to you, looking back over the front seat he was in.

"He won't follow me around," you whispered back. Both Larry and Benji made faces that demonstrated their amusement at your denial of the obvious truth. "They'll be hundreds of pretty girls in cool dresses and they'll have flowers in their hair and be all glittery and beautiful and he'll fall in love with them,"

"You don't know him very well if you think that's gonna happen, Y/N," Benji said laughing. His voice, above the noise level of a whisper, woke Van. He sat up.

"We there yet?"

"Almost," Benji replied. You looked over at Van and had a moment where you thought maybe you should have gone with the girls to the festival instead of agreeing to spend the weekend with Van, Larry and Benji. They were your musical soulmates though. You wanted to experience the bands with them; even if it meant sharing tents with lovesick Van.

It was somewhere between 2012 and 2013. Van had finally learnt to not dress like a Mike Skinner groupie, and Catfish had a bunch of pretty impressive shows booked. They had believed all along that they were going to make it, but it had started to look like maybe they were right. The music festival was their way of celebrating. They would check out of life for a couple of days. Pitch a tent. Get muddy. Listen to bands. Live easy. You were along for the ride, like always.

It took an hour to travel the short distance from the main road to your camping site. Each car was going at a snail's pace, and guys kept jumping from them to pee behind trees. When you could finally leave the car, the fresh air felt good on your face and you stretched out, folding over when Van poked your ribs.

"You're not gonna, like, help?" Larry asked, as you stood between where they'd laid out the tents.

"I'm gonna direct. That's helping," you replied. And direct, you did. Without your incredibly clear and calm instructions, the tents would not have been so perfectly erected.

"Shotgun!" Benji and Larry yelled at the same time, throwing their backpacks and sleeping bags into the bigger tent. That left you and Van in the smaller. You looked at them, they both smirked.

"I have the most stuff," you complained.

"Not our problem,"

"No, it will be good, Y/N!" Van added cheerily. "Snuggle up. Keep each other warm. It's gonna be class." He kissed your cheek and continued to unload things from the car. Benji and Larry continued their smug smirks as they assembled the marquee that would cover both tents and the space between them. There, a card table and fold out chairs were placed. The dining/living room of your makeshift home.

The first night you all went hard. Drunk and up till almost sunrise, you passed out on the blow-up mattress without changing or crawling into a sleeping bag. Van did the same.

The second night you were all nursing a hangover still. Much greasy food was consumed, and while people around you were drinking beers, you hunted down a coffee and tea place and bought a round of English Breakfast. You laid on the grass and let Van thread flowers through your hair. They were actually weeds, and you told him so, but he shrugged and said they looked pretty. The bands you wanted to see that night were chill, and from your position on the hillside you could watch them all. You passed a joint around. Getting dope into the festival was easier than you thought it would or should be. When the last band played, Larry and Benji went off to the bathrooms, and you and Van headed along the dirt track back to the campsite.

You were in love with every single person at the festival. They were sparkly, shiny little things. Friendly and free from worry. Only good. As they ran past you and Van, twirling ribbon and throwing blueberries, you laughed. Van was watching you watch them though. He put his arm around your shoulders and pulled you into his side. Capable of feeling only love, you wrapped an arm around his waist and let him hold you like he wanted to.

Sitting at the card table, Van made you a late night snack of cut up apple with peanut butter. You ate some Nutella from the jar too, and drank some warm Powerade.

"You okay?" he asked as you tried to fix the hurt in your neck by twisting your body in weird positions.

"Already pulled a muscle or something," you told him. He stood up immediately, a piece of apple held between his teeth. He flicked his head back to let gravity push the apple into his mouth so he'd not have to use his hands to eat it. He looked like a fucking bird. Van needed his hands though, for you. He stood behind you and started to massage shoulders, neck, and down your spine. It was a dangerous thing to let a boy with a crush touch you like that, but it felt too good and you didn't have the willpower to stop him. You went quiet, and the sounds of the festival drowned out too. "Come on," he said, stopping after a few minutes. You watched him walk to the tent. "Lay down. I'll do it proper so you're all good for tomorrow," he explained. He said it with a shrug, and if you didn't know him better you'd think he was completely innocent.

Inside the tent you made him close his eyes as you pulled off your jeans and pulled on track pants. Your top was off, and you flung your bra across the small plastic-smelling space. You laid flat on your stomach and laughed as Van climbed on top of you, air mattress rocking with the uneven weight of him. He sat on your ass, a leg either side, and continued to work the stress and knots out of your muscles. He pushed hard with the heel of his palms, but his fingers lightly traced patterns down your arms and back. It was too intimate to be a friend helping another friend. Each movement he made was full of love and want. You were about to either cry or stop him when you heard Larry's stupid cackling laugh.

"You guys up?" Benji called from outside. They sat at the table; you could hear the creaking of the cheap plastic chairs. Before you could answer, Van leant down and pressed his head gently on the back of yours.

"If you want rest, I'll tell them you're asleep," he whispered. You nodded, and before you could stop yourself, or consider where the idea came from, you spoke.

"You stay too."

Your voice was sleepy and kind, and it clearly hit him straight in the heart. He nodded, and moved to kiss the back of your neck. He'd never tried to kiss you before, not really. All the years of liking you, and he'd never tried. The sensation sent goosebumps across your skin. He sat up and crawled out the tent, careful not to open the 'door' enough to let them see you laying topless. You listened as he told them in a hushed voice that you were already asleep, and that he was just going to crash too. They made 'ohhhhhhhhh' and kissing sounds at him. He told them to fuck off. Benji started to sing, "Y/N and Van, sitting in a tent, K. I. S. S. I. N. G."

"Mate, that don't even rhyme if it's not in a tree," Van replied, unimpressed but secretly happy that someone else was acknowledging that something was happening.

He climbed back in and laid next to you, on his stomach too. He'd brought you a spoonful of Nutella, and you sucked on it happily. With the kiss as permission, he was confident in touching you more. He started with twisting a piece of hair and putting it behind your ear. Then, he ran his finger along the bridge of your nose, finishing with a little boop. Van rolled onto his side and scooted closer, he touched each of the freckles on your arm. Your eyes slowly began to close, too heavy to control, as he kissed your shoulder.

"G'night, Y/N," Van whispered, pulling one of the spare blankets your mum insisted you packed, up around you.

"Night," you replied, barely forming the word at all.

"I love you,"

"Love you too," you said. The type of love though, remained to be seen.

…

On the afternoon of night three a decision was made to go on the hunt for drugs. Larry said it was potentially one of the last times you could all be out together in the right environment for it, without being recognised.

"You dead think you're all gonna be super famous," you laughed when he presented his argument.

"We will be," Van said, looking at you over the table like you were denying 9/11 happened. You held your hands up defensively. 

"Oh my god. Okay,"

"Those girls a few tents over, with the rainbow flag? They were dressed as a mermaid and a pirate today. They've got to be holding," Benji offered. Sound logic, really. It was decided that Van and Larry would go ask. Van for his charisma, and Larry because he was incredibly persuasive. They returned from their quest in under ten minutes with four Ninja Turtle shaped pills.

You had overpriced and undercooked pizza for dinner, then swallowed the foul tasting pills as the sun was setting. Drugs… never a good idea.

Whoever played live that night you'd recall as excellent, but not remember anything specific. Only fragmented images became stored in your long term memory. Larry kissing a girl in a headdress; even after you told her it was racist. Someone putting Benji's hair into two buns, making him look like Micky Mouse. Benji telling anyone who'd listen that he was Micky Mouse. A person eating whole carrots, of which they had a bag. You'd shared one with Van like the dogs with the spaghetti. It took too long to get to the joke, to the middle, so he let it drop from his mouth and you did too. Your lips had collided in half kiss half laughter. It was innocent, and not fuelled by Van's love for you. A girl with a water pistol filled with Dr Pepper. Someone with a bag of glitter, which they poured on Van. When he shook out his sweaty hair it flicked glitter on people and it was all magic. An inflatable mattress surfing across the crowd. You, on top of the mattress, waving at the guys as they laughed and waved back. Larry and Van holding each other's faces screaming that they loved each other. Piggyback rides from a stranger. Sharing a sober girl's water while you told her she was the most beautiful person you'd ever seen. Larry asking why you didn't just love Van back, and you saying that you did, you really fucking did.

…

You all slept into the afternoon. The day's first bands were already on stage by the time the heat in the tent woke you. No wonder, you thought as you looked around. All four of you had jammed into the tent together. Plus one. There was a girl with broken fairy wings laying on top of Larry on Van's mattress. Benji was passed out in the small space between beds, and you and Van were curled up together on yours. His arm was around you, hand under your shirt, skin on skin. If the heat wasn't making you sweat and feel sick, you would have never moved.

Outside the air was cooler. Your movement had woken Van and Benji, who followed you out. The comedown was easy; better than a hangover. You ate most of what was left of your food, and considered waking Larry. When the happy sounds of the fairy girl giggling were heard, it was decided to leave them be. Bathing with baby wipes and dousing your hair with dry shampoo, you got dressed and sat the boys down to do their makeup. Benji became The Starchild, with a black star across his right eye. Van, naturally, was The Demon. You tossed up between The Spaceman and The Catman, but ultimately decided you wanted whiskers on Larry. 

When he emerged from the tent, he groaned about his makeup allocation. "He's the least good, but," he said.

"I like cats," Fairy Girl told him. He suddenly did too. Regardless of not painting your faces white first, you still looked like proud members of the KISS Army.

It was early evening by the time you found your way back down to where the music was. It was the last night, and after enough toxicity, you all decided to stay sober. Despite that, you managed to lose each other by the time Arctic Monkeys played. Van had held your hand tight as you stomped through the crowd, dancing and smiling at strangers as you moved. He'd found a place to stop where he could see the stage, and you could have room to move. And move, you both did.

Throwing your body faster and harder than ever before, you danced around Van as he flung his limbs in every direction. Laughing, and crashing into each other, you could sense the feeling in you grow. The View From The Afternoon played and you watched the makeup melt down Van’s face. A girl pulled makeup wipes from a Pikachu shaped backpack and cleaned his face, and yours. You were left with messy black eyes, channelling Robert Smith or maybe Gerard Way. Through Fluorescent Adolescent Van dripped with sweat and happiness, and as his clothes cling to him and he clung to you, the feeling got bigger and bigger and your heart was hurting. Van acted out 'can I have a drink, please' to a guy with a water bottle. The guy nodded and handed it over. Van poured water into your mouth and swayed on the spot, spaced out watching you drink.

505 started, and Van began to have a spiritual moment. He held his arms out, his head went back, and his face calmed into pure bliss. Eyes closed, lips only just parted, he smiled up at the heavens and his love was loud. You didn't realise that you'd stopped moving just to watch him. The girl with the backpack wrapped an arm around you and yelled in your ear. "He's glorious. You're so lucky!" You nodded, and she went away laughing.

Slowly, his head rolled around and his arms dropped. His eyes fluttered open, eyelashes stuck together with makeup and sweat. Van's smile dropped and he stepped to you, almost knocking you over. He grabbed your face and pressed his forehead to yours. "What's wrong? What happened?" he asked quickly.

"What?" you asked, putting your hands over his and pressing your bodies together. One of his hands left your face, and the arm wrapped around you.

"You're crying," he said. He wiped away tears with his thumb.

"I'm…" you tried to say. What? You were just as in love with him as he was with you? That you didn't know what the fuck you'd been doing all those years? That he was the most spectacular thing to ever grace planet Earth?

"You're... You're okay?"

You nodded, and he nodded into you. He kissed your forehead and went to move, but you held him in place. He got it then. Time slowed down. The sound of Arctic Monkeys quietened and in its place you could hear your heartbeat. Van looked at you. His eyes clear; the only thing clean about him. Thick with sweat and glitter and grime, you were in love with each other.

Van put his head back to you, and slowly dragged his nose along yours. Then, you kissed, and nothing else mattered. It wouldn't ever again.

…

When the night was over, and your lips were bruised from making up for years of not kissing Van, you walked hand in hand to the meeting point. Benji and Larry were sitting on the grass. Their makeup was a mess; they'd not had a prepared girl to clean them like you did. The hand holding did nothing to tip them off that something had changed. As Van fell to the ground, and you laid on your side next to him, head on his wet chest, they still didn't see it.

"I'm fucked," Larry said as he adjusted his headband. Benji nodded and shook out his hair, which was weighed down with what you hoped was water tipped on him, rather than pure sweat.

"But I'm up for the DJ sets," he said. "You guys in?" You replied with an affirmative at the same time as Van said no.

After five minutes to breathe, you stood up. You hugged Larry, then let Van bundle you up and kiss you hard. Larry and Benji audibly gasped, and Van smiled into you. When you separated, they were both looking at you with wide grins.

"Fucking finally!" Larry said, and patted Van on the back. You waved them off as you followed Benji back to the crowds.

…

When the sun was almost up, you crawled under the spare blanket with Van, and let him sleepily wrap around you, kissing your neck. "Where's Larry?" you whispered.

"His tent," Van mumbled. They'd been lucky to get a few hours of sleep. It meant they'd be the first ones on driving duty home. You watched him under the barely-there glow of battery operated fairy lights. They were almost out of juice. Before you returned to the real world, even if that world was also filled with music and adventure, you needed Van to know how you felt.

"Van?" He made a small sound in reply. You kissed his cheek, trying to wake him up. You tried a second kiss, and his eyes opened and slowly focused on you. "I like you,"

"I like you too, babe,"

"No, like… I don't want you to think I'm just all caught up in this, you know? That it's gonna go back to normal when we go home,"

Van chuckled quietly under his breath; a short sound that indicated what you said wasn't funny exactly, but he was still amused. "Oh, babe, you think after letting me this close to you all night that anything's going back to normal, you're mad,"

"Yeah, but, just so you know. I like you," you repeated, trying to make each word sound significant.

"You always have, Y/N. Just fuckin' about, weren't ya? Come here," he said so casual, like he'd not been dying in waiting. Cuddled up together, your lungs became synchronised to the movement of Van's. Small kisses pressed to whatever skin he could get to, and you were asleep fast.

In the morning, you would wake and eat a banana and the last of the Nutella from the jar. Larry would drive, and you'd sleep in the back of the car, your head in Van's lap like his was in yours on the way there.


End file.
